on martinis, Smurfettes and Russian dolls...

I was going to tear up the night but then I said maybe I'll just dump out my coffee and have a beer and so ended the frenzy of activity. Done with the baking, done with the presents, the holiday cards can wait until later in the weekend.

Uneasy Rhetoric suggested decaf, but maybe all I need is to follow my caffeine with a beer chaser and I'm set.

As it is, still not enough sleep this week and still way too much to do although last night provided a much-needed break. First on the agenda were drinks with the work crowd. We took over the patio at Mason's which was nice because then I didn't have to see all the so-called movers and shakers and could, instead, simply concentrate on my martinis. Yes, I've turned into my grandmother with the vodka martinis. Always with olives. They do them nicely.

From there it was dinner at Taka and then the Helper Monkeys/Chixdiggit/Ghoulies show at Old I where I had two more drinks (rum with diet) and did not get to sleep until 1:30 a.m. But I had fun seeing friends and pogo-ing when the Ghoulies played "I Don't Like Mondays." And I did sleep last night. Pretty well (if not quite enought) - even the part where I was dreamingI was in a rave dance contest but was disqualified after my Smurfette costume kept slipping off. The Cure's Robert Smith was the judge and at first I was pissed that he booted me but then we started talking and I became good friends with him and his quiet, Nordic girlfriend.

Anyway.

My best moment today came at Swanberg's on Freeport. I was doing a little lunchtime Christmas shopping when a woman came in with her six-year-old daughter. They'd come to play with the store's collection of Russian dolls - tiny, colorful fabric women wearing babushkas.

Why don't you pick one out and we'll take her home? the mother said to her daughter.

No, said the girl, in a sweet high voice. They can stay here.

The pair must have spent at least a half hour just wandering through the store playing with dolls and other tchotckes and every time the mother offered to buy her daughter something, the girl politely declined.

She just likes to come in here and visit them, the mother said to Ruth, the woman who owns Swanbergs.

She can come in anytime she likes, Ruth said.

And amid the holiday madness, the spending, the coming and the going, it seemed like such a nice thing to do. No exchange of money, no cold hard commerce. Just a little visit among friends.

And that's your Lifetime TV holiday moment of the day.

Also, the end appears to be coming: Urban Outfitters is now selling stirrup pants. Mark my words, shapeless flannel shirts and Docs will be in next month's catalogue.